Fleeting
by colorful swirls
Summary: The war is over, but the battle is just beginning. - RonHermione, for Empress.


**disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

**dedicated to: **Empress, because she is amazing and yeah, this is angst - but like I promised, you can imagine any ending to this that you want. I love you, girl! And I hope that you love this as much I loved Oblivion, but I'm not sure if that's even earthly possible. :3

**written for: **Pairing Diversity Bootcamp (scattered), If You Dare (poisoned love), Weasley Family Bootcamp (disposition), Popular Song Competition (We Are Never Getting Back Together), Hugs & Happiness Challenge - Empress, Camp Potter: Fireworks Show.

* * *

:-:

It all starts with you, and your abnormally large mouth.

Doesn't it always?

:-:

Four months after the war, the recovery is going strong. People are picking up the pieces, wounds - inside and out - are healing, and life is, overall, looking up. Your family can finally sit down for dinner and focus on the spaces that are filled, not the empty one.

Of course, this strange normalcy comes with both good and bad.

You and Hermione are back to your old pattern.

:-:

"Honestly, Ronald," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You'd think that someone of your rank would have a bit more common sense."

"How did I know?" you ask irritably. This nonstop arguing has become more than a little aggravating as of late.

It is this comment that sends her, already teetering, off the edge.

"How did you _know_? Isn't it _obvious_, Ron? They were deceived by their only daughter - they had their _memories_ erased - and now they find out that the entire time, I was fighting a war! Of course I'd - they'd - be upset!" And her face is so completely destroyed that you can't even argue.

"Hey, it's okay," you say softly, placing your hand over her smaller one.

Hermione sniffles. "No it's _not_," she cries, and then she breaks.

She begins to sob, and you hold her, patting her back softly, and you think that this is the only time you and Hermione's relationship seems the slightest bit romantic anymore: when you make her cry.

:-:

Neither of you have forgotten the kiss. She makes that fact quite obvious one day, while the two of you are supposed to be peeling potatoes in the kitchen.

"Ron," she whispers.

"Yes?" you grunt.

She draws a great, shaky breath, and looks at you with shiny eyes. "Do you think we'll ever be back to how we used to be?"

You turn to look at her, surprise surely on your features. "We already are," you answer. "Have you heard our bickering?" A humorless chuckle escapes your lips.

She rolls her own tear-filled eyes. "Not _that_ used to. I mean - I mean when I kissed you, and you kissed me back like you were used to it."

"Oh." There aren't really words for what emotions you experience at that moment. But there is one that is sticking out above the rest.. love, you decide. You turn your head towards her, and as you look at her you confirm that yes, it is most definitely love that you're feeling.

"I'm ready when you are," you whisper. She looks up at you, and then she kisses you, and her lips are light as a butterfly's wings on yours, and just as fleeting.

:-:

Weeks go by, and there are no more kisses.

Just fights. The kind of fights that are so bad, Harry yells at the two of you; Ginny always seems depressed when she watches you or Hermione; your mother is constantly frowning her disapproval at you.

But she's Hermione, and she's too bloody stubborn for her own good - what can you do, other than fight fire with fire?

:-:

"I don't want that one, it's only half-full," you say to George, as he's offering everyone some of his products that haven't sold.

"Half-empty," Hermione chides in from beside you. You open your mouth, and in the split second before words come out, you can almost hear the internal groans of those around you.

"They're the same thing."

"No, they're not. You were referring to the bottle as "half-full" in a negative way, which means you should use the negative term. Half-_empty_." She looks at you like this is obvious.

You look at her like she is completely mental. "They're the absolute same thing, Hermione, and even if they're not, I have a bloody good outlook on life, so I'll say half-full, thanks." Your voice has risen without you even noticing. People are staring, and not just your family; all in the shop.

She opens her mouth, but quickly closes it, looking finally lost for words. You walk out the door, leaving her slightly pink behind you.

:-:

Christmas of 1998, the Ministry holds a ball, and you ask her to go with you, despite the ice between the two of you.

You're standing on the side of the dance floor when Hermione walks over to you. She eyes the tray that you're holding. "Want one?" you ask, offering her a block of cheese.

"No, thank you," she says. "Who made them, anyway?" she adds, looking genuinely puzzled.

"House elves," you answer nonchalantly. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth, but you beat her to it.

"This isn't _spew_, Hermione, leave them be."

It is this senseless comment - you have learned nothing, absolutely _nothing_ in eight years - that starts the beginning of the end.

"It's not spew, Ron, it's the S.P.E.W., which, for your information, stands for - "

"I know what it stands for, haven't I listened to you go on about it for five years? I'm just teasing you, that's all."

"Well, I'm tired of your teasing! You don't understand - "

"I don't understand teasing? Have you _met_ Draco Malfoy?"

"No, you don't understand what it's like to be _me_!"

"Frankly, I don't much _want_ to, Hermione - "

"_Ugh!_"

She jerks out in anger; her hair breaks loose and frames her face, eyes huge and hair hanging. She looks like the picture of madness.

"I'm tired of this, Ron! I can't deal with it - I can't deal with _you_, not now!" Her eyes are angrier than you've ever seen them; even you cannot pretend to yourself that this will all blow over.

And then she storms off, leaving you clutching a half-empty glass of wine.

* * *

**a/n: **please don't favorite/follow without reviewing, thanks!


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